Cuyohuuuuu!

Sometimes it seems as if the harder goals are to achieve, the more valuable they become. Cuyo fully belongs in this category. Located just 100 kilometres as the crow flies from my second kitespot Malalison in the Palawan Sea, the journey takes a good 27 hours. Banka to the mainland, trike, six hours by backfish bus without air conditioning through numerous landslides behind San Jose to Iloilo that have not yet been repaired by the last rainy season.

As nobody could reliably say when the ferry to Cuyo would leave, I arrive six hours early as a precaution. It departs almost on time and, thanks to enough paint on 40-year-old steel, arrives in Cuyo in one piece after 14 hours, even through three metres of swell. Compared to the 29 hours of seasickness caused by a storm from two Swedes for the trip from the other side, which actually took eight hours, my ship was the purest speedboat.

Cuyo is another island where Bob Ross would have at least one multiple every evening at sunset. Niki’s guesthouse is full of good kiters from all over the world and is right on the beach just 300 metres from the biggest flat-water spot in the Philippines. According to an old French lady BlaBla, she “invented” an awful lot of kite spots before they were “messed up”. She annoys everyone without exception with negative stories that nobody wants to hear – and doesn’t smile once in a week in paradise. The two good Swedes stay put. I briefly ponder whether happiness can be taught, but then quickly decide to just go kiting.

The spot in Cuyo is a dream of a turquoise flat-water laboratory over icing sugar sand in good wind. After just six hours and for very little money, the 10 comes back from the magician of the good Cuyo Watersports Association with a top repair. Until then, I enjoy the beautiful spot at Capusan Beach in 16 to 24 knots on the 13er Edge on the first day. Heading east towards the city, the offshore wind becomes extremely patchy. Towards the end of the 200 metre long sandbank it is much more constant.

There are only a few stones on the beach in the bay, otherwise there are no dangers apart from a few sea urchins at the end of the sandbank. You should only avoid drifting to leeward towards the harbour. The water is deep there, but the fishing boats rarely have to rescue anyone. On the outer side there is another 500 metres of shallow water up to the reef – with some coral blocks just below the surface even at mid-level. Unfortunately, the outside is only kiteable from mid-tide onwards – below that you have to walk a long way and there is really very little water under the board. From the northern tip of Cuyo, you can tackle hour-long standing downwind trips back to Cuyo town.

Time ticks completely differently on Cuyo. Even the tides in the Palawan Sea follow suit. The elongated island of Palawan in the west turns the sea towards the Visayas into a large bathtub. So you can easily have low tide at nine o’clock, medium tide at 11.30, then another slight low tide and another high tide at four. You should know the tides, especially on the outside. In my five days on Cuyo, there were a maximum of 25 kiters out there – in an area of easily two square kilometres.

Cuyo is different from many other Philippine islands. People come here from all over the world, and many stay much longer than planned. The mix of travellers and residents is just right. The police hand out flyers with important safety information at the pier exit: “Don’t leave your valuables in your room. Don’t take them on tours.” I spend a few days searching in vain for treasure on the beach. At sunset, the expats gather under the trees on the beach promenade. All the kids ask your name and everyone wants to be a drone pilot. The kiters here are all freaks by nature – their religion is the wind. I’m immediately at home.

Toothless Grandma Heidi cooks Phlippin delicacies like banana blossom fritters in the nearby market. She also prepares my beloved kinilaw, raw spicy fish marinated in lemon and coconut milk, for me every evening in somewhat scary conditions. I cheer “Long live immune training!” and curse the sagrotan bombers at home. Flavours explode in my grinning mouth and my stomach never makes a sound.

Unfortunately, the wind doesn’t really get going for the rest of my week on Cuyo, mostly bobbing around 12 to 17 knots. The tide also moves into the night. You can kite a bit in the bay at midday on the intermediate tide, but to make the most of such fantastic flat water I would have liked another 25 knots and high tide.

Time flows comfortably through my day on Cuyo. I edit the video of the odyssey and compose the soundtrack with the active participation of the children of Cuyo. Unfortunately, the internet is practically unusable – only between midnight and early morning is there minimal web design.

I hire a small enduro bike for very little money. Apart from the many beautiful beaches and herons among the mangroves, there is little to discover for three hours around the island. The experience is the motorbike itself: handshake, no driving licence, no insurance or number plate, no helmet, no speedometer. The engine and brakes work. The rest takes me rattling along every dirt track for three hours. 100% Philippines…

Once again, the sun sets in a blaze of colour. The birds sing in the trees. Below them, a perhaps 14-year-old Filipino plays simple chords on his guitar, smoking and drinking beer. The girls from the village sing a Visaya lullaby consisting almost entirely of vowels. The mayor plays poker almost worse than I do, and the young karaoke street workers are happy about a few free beers. I really don’t know when the last time everything was this good, genuine and dignified despite the lack of wind…

Cuyo Pro

• fantastic flat water and plenty of space
• few kiters, a wonderful international mix – and all soul surfers
• Good kite school with hire and repair around the corner
• affordable accommodation Nikis Pension close to the spot
• real cosy, quiet Philippines without too much tourism
• good food in the nearby market

Cuyo Contra

• relatively difficult and unreliable (ferry) or expensive (turboprop flight) to reach
• most of the spot is only safe to use from mid-tide onwards
• Internet practically non-existent
• apart from the evening tanduhay rum rounds at sunset, hardly any nightlife